


Coming Home (not for Christmas)

by SrebrnaFH



Series: Srebrna's Sherlock Oneshots [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 29th of January, Delays, Established Relationship, Happy Anniversary, January 29, M/M, Sherlock Anniversary, train
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 20:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17587592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SrebrnaFH/pseuds/SrebrnaFH
Summary: John is stuck on a train and he had some specific plans for that day.A story for January 29th 2019 - Happy Anniversary, boys!





	Coming Home (not for Christmas)

The train was stuffy and the people around him were watching the snowfall outside with the quiet desperation of ones who know that they would not be joining their families for dinner anytime soon.

He could feel their hopelessness like a great, nerve-wrecking wave washing over him, again and again. His hand again found its own way to the internal pocket of his suit jacket, checking its contents mechanically. Yes, it was there.

“Someone waiting for you at home, eh?” the woman opposite him was squeezed between the window and a corpulent man in tweed jacket and puffy jacket, but she seemed reasonably optimistic. “There is a look that people have, you know. When they have someone to go back to.”

“Y-yes,” he nodded slowly. “I wanted to be back earlier today, but it seems Mother Nature is against me.”

She frowned and cocked her head to the side.

“Tuesday,” she murmured. “Ah. Anniversary then? Or birthday?”

“Anniversary, in fact,” he admitted with a small laugh. “I wanted to be on time for a dinner out, so I still have hope.”

“Oh, lovely,” she smiled widely. “Married then?”

“Ah,” he blushed and his fingers danced across the outline of the small box in his pocket. “Not  _yet_.”

Her eyes darted between his face and the spot where he was tracing the shape under the heavy fabric of his suit jacket and she smiled in an understanding fashion.

“I wish you luck,” she leaned closer. “I hope she says yes.”

He blinked and shook his head.

“I hope  _he_  says yes,” he corrected her kindly.

“A-ah?” she leaned back, looking nonplussed, but he didn’t react with anything but a shrug. People still reacted weirdly to same-sex couples, despite all the time that had passed, and he tried to be patient. It was his penance for what he had himself said over the years, for each “I’m not gay” and “I’m not his date”. So he sat through the incredulous looks, the suspicious questions, the utterly tactless demands for explanation, the stupid suggestions and “but you don’t look gay, John!”. “And what does a gay man look like then?” he asked back, sometimes (but only if someone was too insistent), and the general panic caused by that question was sometimes even fun to watch. Usually, though, he just let them be. They weren’t the lucky ones. They weren’t the ones coming back home to the wide smile, the bright eyes, the mad curls and the brilliance of Sherlock Holmes’ brain.

He tapped the little box again, watching the winter landscape roll slowly on the other side of the window.

The woman was now reading her phone, the news… no, Facebook. Scrolling and tapping the reaction icons. She wasn’t looking up at him, probably discomfited by how the conversation had turned out. Well, not his fault. He buried his face in the warm folds of his dark-red, cashmere scarf.

A lurch of the train coming to a stop woke him up. People all around him were standing up, pulling their luggage off the racks and putting on their coats. He rose slowly, picking up his small case from the overhead shelf and shouldering his laptop bag. Checking the hour on his watch (the telephone having died long before) he noticed it was much later than he had predicted it would be. Sherlock would probably be tearing the flat apart.

He made his way to the platform and stood for a moment, trying to get his bearings and gather his thoughts. He looked around, waiting for the people to pass, he didn’t have enough energy left to brave the crowds right at the moment.

He looked up.

_Oh._

His eyes met the pale green of his partner’s gaze.

_Yes. I dearly hope he will say yes._

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [my tumblr](https://srebrnafh.tumblr.com/).  
> [My writing blog.](https://fanfik.wordpress.com/)  
> [My handmade blog.](https://srebrna.wordpress.com/)
> 
> I am taking a writing course and one of the tasks is to ask my readers to describe my writing style in 3 adjectives. I'd be grateful if you could provide this kind of feedback :)  
> (if you provided it already somewhere else - THANK YOU! :))


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